The Never-ending Task Of Self Improvement.

What Omniscience Has Music! So Absolutely Impersonal, And Yet Every Sufferer Feels His Secret Sorrow Soothed.

Eyes...they Speak All Languages.

The Maker Of A Sentence Launches Out Into The Infinite And Builds A Road Into Chaos And Old Night, And Is Followed By Those Who Hear Him With Something Of Wild, Creative Delight.

It Is One Of The Blessings Of Old Friends That You Can Afford To Be Stupid With Them.

There Is No Chance And Anarchy In The Universe. All Is System And Gradation. Every God Is There Sitting In His Sphere.